Ordinary
by em2706
Summary: After some seven years together, Alex's relationship with Chris is not the one he'd anticipated. Slash.


Alex could still remember the exact moment when he'd realised he wasn't in love anymore.

He'd been standing at the kitchen table, just as he was now, unpacking the groceries they'd just bought, and Chris had moved to stand behind him. Chris' arms had wound around his torso, while the soft lips that were so familiar by then feathered teasing, fleeting kisses on Alex's neck and ear. It took a minute before it dawned on Alex that his body wasn't responding to Chris' touch; there was no instinctive tightening in his stomach or his groin, and no rapidly increasing urge to swipe all the groceries aside and take Chris on the table. Not that it wasn't nice - of course it was nice, but it wasn't anything more than that. More importantly, feeling Chris' mouth on his neck didn't result in a flood of emotion. Being the object of Chris' affection had become mundane and ordinary.

It had knocked Alex for six. He hadn't ever expected that day to come. He'd honestly believed he and Chris would still be desperately clawing at each other when they were seventy. He wondered now how he'd ever been that naive.

Alex pushed aside the memories of the day he'd realised his relationship with Chris had changed, and with the groceries all put away, he made a start on dinner. Spaghetti bolognese - Alex wasn't exactly a gourmet chef. Once the sauce was reducing and there was nothing else to do for a while, Alex sat down at the table, and it wasn't long before his mind began to wander again. He smiled distantly as he recalled the first time he'd cooked for Chris. It had been their first date, for lack of a better term, and Alex had been nervous as hell. It had taken them forever to awkwardly admit to their interest in each other, and Alex had been convinced he was going to fuck it up. If there was one thing Alex was good at, it was screwing up any chance he had with someone he liked.

That time, he hadn't screwed it up, although dinner had been a bust. While Alex had been cooking, Chris' hands had stolen around his waist, and Alex had almost dropped the spoon when Chris whispered in his ear that he couldn't stand how hot Alex looked, and that he was about to fuck Alex rigid. Needless to say, they'd had to order in, because dinner was cremated.

His chin in his hands and his elbows on the table, Alex closed his eyes against the memory of being bent over that same table with Chris moving inside him for the first time. He remembered being swept up in a whirlwind of passion and tenderness, and having to hold in everything he wanted to say for fear of getting too intense too soon and scaring Chris off.

He shook himself out of his reverie when he heard the front door slam. He didn't call out to Chris or go to see him, and Chris didn't come into the kitchen to find him either. Alex got to his feet and finished making dinner.

Once the meal was laid out on the table, Alex yelled to Chris that dinner was ready. Not much was said while they ate; there wasn't a lot _to_ say. Chris still ate like a pig - that was one thing that would probably never change, Alex thought dryly - but apart from that it wasn't much like the meals they used to share at all. It used to be that eating was something that interfered with their ability to chatter constantly, much of that chatter being caustic bitchery at the expense of their friends. Their shared sarcastic sense of humour was one of the many things that drew them to each other in the first place.

When they'd finished eating, Chris muttered a half-hearted thanks for the meal, his mind evidently elsewhere. Alex acknowledged it with a careless nod and left the room, leaving Chris to do the dishes. By the time Chris finished up and made his way into the living room, Alex was already engrossed in a novel, his bookmark next to him on the sofa.

In the periphery of his vision, Alex saw Chris grabbing one of his guitars, setting it up and plugging his headphones into the amp. He appreciated Chris not disturbing him; though he wasn't generally as much of a book person as Chris, he'd been wanting to read this particular one for weeks. He'd finally tracked down a copy that day, and it would only have irritated him if Chris had interrupted his reading.

Alex shook his head as he thought about how their younger selves had done everything together. If they'd still been in their early twenties, they might have been jamming on a night like this, or watching anime, but most likely they'd have been playing some video game. Either way, what they did wouldn't have been as important as doing it together. He wouldn't have believed that one day he'd be grateful for Chris keeping his mouth shut and leaving him in peace.

Alex could remember times when they'd spent a week or more on the road, working indies, acting as though they were nothing but friends and wanting desperately to be back home so they could focus exclusively on each other. He remembered the intensity of the waves of emotion by which he was constantly buffeted, and the way his chest used to feel too tight when Chris smiled at him. He used to think of being in love with Chris as a never-ending fireworks display. He'd been wrong though; fireworks, by their very nature, inevitably burn out.

Alex directed his attention back to his reading. He lost himself in the book, and nearly jumped out of his skin when a sudden jarring discord rang through the room. He glared at Chris in accusation, the dangling cord from the headphones clearly indicating that they'd come unplugged when Chris had accidentally wandered too far from the amp while he was playing.

"Sorry, dude," Chris said, his apology half sincere despite his evident amusement.

Alex waved his hand dismissively, surprised when he glanced up at the clock and discovered it was gone eleven. He tried to get back into his book, but he didn't really manage it because he was distracted by Chris putting his guitar and headphones away and switching off the amp. Before he went upstairs, Chris dropped a quick kiss on the top of Alex's head, and Alex knew it was more out of habit than anything else.

As Chris' footsteps retreated up the stairs, Alex put his bookmark into his book and laid it aside, remembering the days when neither of them would have dreamt of going to bed at different times. At 23, he would never have believed he'd stay in a relationship when he wasn't in love anymore, but there were a lot of things his younger self hadn't understood.

Alex recalled the day he'd invited Chris to move in. He'd been petrified; he'd never been so enamoured of anybody before, and his fear that maybe Chris wasn't as serious about them as himself had gnawed away at him unrelentingly. He hadn't been sure he could have faced Chris walking away from him, and he remembered his usual confidence deserting him and not being able to look at Chris as he stammered out his invitation. When Chris had said yes, Alex had been so overjoyed he could barely speak. He couldn't have imagined ever being happier. His younger self, Alex thought wryly, was a fool.

Alex got up, turned the light off, and followed Chris upstairs. Chris had already vacated the bathroom, so Alex went in, not bothering to close the door behind him. He used the toilet and washed his hands, and as he brushed his teeth, he found himself staring at the shower. When Chris had first moved in, they used to shower together all the time; Chris' hands would skate reverently across his skin, taking pleasure in washing him and pampering him, and Alex would return the favour, all the while feeling unworthy of touching Chris' perfection. Now, of course, they hadn't showered together in years. It was so much easier to move around in there alone.

By the time Alex had finished up and headed into the bedroom, Chris was already in bed and the light already switched off. He closed the door and made his way to the bed, being careful not to trip and fall in the darkness, and he undressed quietly, leaving his clothes on the floor. He slid beneath the covers, taking a moment to find a comfortable position, and as he settled, Chris rolled towards him. Alex could hear the question in the air before Chris even spoke.

"Hey, you wanna...?"

"Yeah, okay."

It was quick, two handjobs that were efficient and almost thoughtless, and climaxes directed into wads of tissue which were subsequently tossed to the floor. They'd settled on this method a long time previously, a method that took a minimum of effort and required little cleanup in the morning, but still helped lull them into sleep.

When they were done, Chris patted Alex's leg absently and turned back onto his side, and Alex tried to get comfortable again. It was a familiar routine, and Alex was just beginning to drift off to sleep when Chris rolled towards him again.

"I love you," Chris said, and Alex smiled.

"Is this conversation going where I think it's going? Because if it is, you're out of luck, I just can't recharge that fast anymore. And we have to be up early."

"No, asshole." Chris' grin was evident in his voice, and Alex winced when Chris flicked the tip of his nose. "Not right now, anyway. I was thinking maybe Thursday?"

It was a sensible suggestion; it gave them time to go to work, come home again, and spend a little while recovering their energy first. And if past experience was anything to go by, Alex was going to need it.

Despite his recent orgasm, Alex felt his groin tighten faintly as he recalled the last time they'd set the day aside for each other - the way Chris had used everything he'd learnt about Alex over the years alongside his considerable technical skill to bring him to the edge of climax over and over during the course of the day, only to pull away before it was too late, and the way Alex had turned the tables, pinning Chris down and focusing on all the sensitive spots he'd discovered during their time together, until they'd decided to break for lunch. His memory conjured up a hazy collage of lips on skin, and grunts and moans and that breathy sound Chris made when Alex's mouth sank down on him. He remembered watching beads of sweat work their way down Chris' back while Alex was inside him, and he remembered the moment when he couldn't take it anymore, the orgasm that had ripped through him and the affectionate smile that had greeted him when he'd finally managed to open his eyes again. Better yet, he remembered Chris' awed expression as his own climax hit, and he remembered stroking the side of Chris' face tenderly while Chris was still too dazed to speak.

"Thursday sounds good," Alex agreed, already anticipating the seemingly endless hours of tortured pleasure he knew he was in for. A day like that would have been all but impossible in the first few years of their relationship; their immediate need for each other had always been too intense, and one of them would have cracked too soon.

Chris pressed himself close to Alex and leaned down for a kiss, their tongues touching lazily in a rare expression of intimacy, one that at this point they usually only shared when they were making love. As Chris pulled away, Alex smiled fondly into the darkness. Nothing about being in love had prepared him for the quiet, enduring depth of feeling that had replaced it. As exciting as the fireworks had been, now that they were over, Alex could finally see the breathtaking beauty of the night sky.

"I love you too," he said, every word sincere but also casual and a little redundant, because loving Chris had become ordinary, and it was so obvious that there was no need to say it aloud. He sighed contentedly as Chris turned away again to settle back into his preferred position on his side. Alex followed suit, his back not quite touching Chris', although he was close enough to feel Chris' body heat.

Alex wasn't in love, and he couldn't have been happier.


End file.
